The end? The beginning? The great drama, the great conflict. It is the culmination of our lives, it is the destination we have journeyed towards since birth, and we have no idea what it is.
Disaster, death, celebration. What drives us? what defines...
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All about me time went mad, as demons laughed, with angels sad. Flesh was burned, the wounds all bled, millions dying, millions dead.
Crimson floods of sanguine wine flood the concrete cracks of time, then recede to ages past as scarlet stars of polished glass, through rotting depths of dismal fens, where amber lightning, searing hot, decries the prayers of priest-less cults, where wind and rain in constant strife, wipe clean a planet claiming life.
